Last Dance

Decisions decisions decisions

The reception’s humming.
She comes running.

“You have to dance with me one last time,” she whispers in my ear.
Her fingers sliding up my back. I tremble in fear.

She pulls me closer, wraps arms round, rests her tipsy head on my chest.
Dismissing her body’s no easy test.

Both with others, our romance imaginary,
but not stationary.

Once we shared laughs and gazes over drinks that set stomachs churning.
At boring parties, we felt our instincts burning.

She's alone now, and the music's for groovin’. She snuggles between me and my new ring.
My arm around her, quakin’. My heart starts to sing.

Her blonde hair tickling, reminding me why I shouldn’t.
But she scorches me with her flaming blues. Resist she wouldn’t.

Her arching back I caress.
My hand rests on her seducing, scorching soft skin, set free by her blue satin dress.

The curve of her a*s I admired now on the edge of my grip.
My right hand slides down. Will I let the chance to pull her in slip?

“You have to dance with me once more.” Her arms give no slack.
She curves them up tighter. Hands hooked on my back.

Feet move subtly, slightly farther apart.
No place to go. I feel myself start.

I can’t control nature’s flow, but my hands can’t decide.
Retreat up? Her back will beg for a bed. Pull in low? I’ll give away that I’m ready to ride.

The girl can get what she wants, out to prove she's in demand.
She whispers “I feel that.” Her pearly grin takes my hand.

“Do something about it. Take a chance.
Come round the corner, and finish my dance.”

Reviews

[Alexa Apothic Red]

Oh my! This is a hot flirt of a dance!

[Nathan Spark]

Haha! That made me laugh!